Yesterdays Tomorrows
by LadyFlowDi
Summary: Clark grieves for something out of his control, and Lex is there to help.


To Kel. Thank you darling, for being a beta...and more then that, thank you for being my friend :)  
  
  
  
Yesterdays Tomorrows  
  
1  
  
  
Tears of joy. Perfect, oval, crystalline tears of joy that tumbled down soft pale cheeks. She was scared, he knew it and still he pressed her hand tightly in his, squeezed with all his heart. It had been so hard...so much blood and fatigue and pain, all leading to right now. To here. To her tear streaked face and matted hair. To her eyes, as pure and green as the Irish land.   
  
Tight fingers clutched tight in my hand, and a heavy sobbing breath left her slim, soft throat.  
  
"Breathe. Breathe, sweetheart. That's it....inhale...exhale...inhale."  
  
An expression of frenzied and agonized laughter took over her face. "Why don't *you* breath, Clark?! I don't see *you* breathing here! You prick, you loathsome creep!"  
  
"That's it...that's it...I'm a jerk."  
  
"I'm going to tear your arms off!"  
  
"Yes, oh God, yes, you can yank out my liver and wear it on a chain, but right now I need you to breathe."  
  
Bright blue orbs of almost comical horror glanced at me over a softly hued surgical mask, and thin jointed fingers grasped Chloe's sweaty ones. "You're doing wonderful, Chloe, wonderful. You have to do what Clark says, you have to breathe."  
  
"You owe me *so* big for this, Luthor! Not only do you owe me, you--*ahhhhh*!!"  
  
She threw herself backward into my waiting arms and I jerked hard, letting her press her back into my stomach. Rubbed my fingers over her the way the doctors had told me too...her belly was so *hard*.   
  
"I didn't do anything!" Lex looked up at me, and I didn't have to see his mouth to notice his dread.  
  
"*You have a dick*!"   
  
Reassurance glanced at me under a cap and above a mouth shield, eyes dancing bright with amusement. "Ms Sullivan...Chloe. You're going to have to push, on the count of three. All right?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"One...two...*now*!"  
  
If my blood were anything other then alien, my hand would have been crushed under her grip. Tears spilled down her cheeks, her huge eyes squeezed tight as she let out a guttural cry.  
  
A gasp...then two more and the machines over our heads started to clang. What? Loud, shrilly, and there had to be a problem with them, cause Chloe was pushing with all her might.  
  
Too much blood. Too many running feet. Too many hands.  
  
A nurse with apprehension in her face gripped my arm.  
  
"You have to get down, Mr. Kent."  
  
"What? I...what's happening?"  
  
"Please get down, and let us do our job."  
  
She was serious. Oh, God. She helped me down from behind Chloe's stiff back, laying her straight before my leg had swung over. Left me standing there, not knowing what to do.  
  
Fear, such bright fear, and hollowed gray cheeks.  
  
Oh, God. Oh God. Please smile again, doctor. Don't look at me like that.   
  
"Its okay, Chloe, its gonna be okay. Its just a little problem, is all." Massaged a limp hand, fingers that had clenched moments before as weak and soft as a kitten. "Its gonna be fine, just hang tight. Just look at me, okay?"  
  
"*Blood pressure dropping*, *heartbeat dropping*. *Hang a pint*; *O neg*, *stat*. *100ccs of Lidocane*, *on my mark*. *Hemorrhaging badly here*; *we need to find the rupture*."  
  
"Clark....Clark." Such a strong woman, and she'd lost her war. *No*. "Clark...."  
  
"Chloe, you have to stay with me here, I can't--"   
  
"*Hurry*, *forceps*."  
  
So much. Finding out she'd been pregnant with a mad mans child, which in itself had driven me nearly insane. Justine, a killer with the soft voice and broken hands and dark, sadistic heart. His paralyzing death that Chloe had told me once made her feel so desperately, irrevocably alone. Her battle through our sophomore year, her need to be somebody for her child. Her hard work. At the end, her dream to be a good mother to a child still unborn. Blood and sacrifice and agony, and it wasn't enough.  
  
God still asked for one more thing.  
  
"Lex..." So intense. She looked at him so hauntingly, as if he held the key to the universe. "Lex...pl..."  
  
"Chloe..." He looked so lost, standing there in his too large scrubs and his gray face. So beautiful, even in his shock.  
  
"You have to take care of--" she groaned softly as the doctor slipped his hands into her, grasped a child still not born, a child that was sipping her life away. "My ba...baby...please."  
  
"Chloe."  
  
"*Please*."  
  
I never thought I'd ever in my life see Lex Luthor cry. "Yes. Yes, anything."  
  
"*Ive got the head*. *Come on*, *Chloe*, *push for me*. *Another pint*, *stat*. *Increase saline drip*, *fifty percent*. *Im going to take the baby*."  
  
"Clark...Clark. Look at...."  
  
She was swimming in blood. "I..."  
  
"I l..." The alarms rang, loud and shrilly, and something, someone, shoved me out of the way. So many instruments. So many needles, and she grasped my hand one last time. Felt myself die with her, in those glassy eyes. "I love you, Clark."  
  
Nothing. "Chloe....Chloe? Chloe!"  
  
"*Circulatory failure*! *Get the paddles*! *100 J*, *clear*! *Clear the respirator*, *get the tube in*. *Chloe*, *honey*, *I need you to come back now*. * 200 J*! *Clear*!"  
  
"Chloe! Chloe, no...no, Chloe, no..."  
  
"*No good*, *Doctor*."   
  
"*Get a trach tray in here*. *Come on*, *we*'*ve got to go in*. *Johnson*, *take the baby out*. *Now*. *Scalpel*."  
  
"No....I...no...bring her b...Chloe....Chloe, open your eyes, please, I...Ch..."  
  
"*Paging Dr*. *Moreno to Delivery*, *code blue*. *Moreno to delivery*, *code blue*."  
  
No, no, no. Beautiful, so beautiful, her laugh and charm and grace. *No*. No, "Chloe, no. Open your eyes. Open your eyes, Chloe. Come back. I need you."  
  
"*Sir*...*sir*, *you need to move back*."  
  
Grim hopelessness.  
  
"She...she can't breathe...I...you've got to help her."  
  
"*We're doing all we can*, *sir. *Please*, *move back*."  
  
Lex was so lost.  
  
"I...no...but..."  
  
"*Mr. Kent*, *please*."  
  
It was hopeless. It was all...hopeless. Her eyes were half-open, so blank. Skin gray. All her blood was on the floor....she needed it, why was it there? Give her more, please give her more, can't you see it's everywhere? Everyone gives blood every year. Give her some. Please bring her back.  
  
Her baby lay lifeless and blue in the doctor's arms, cord wrapped around its tiny throat.  
  
"Clark....Clark."  
  
Lex. Lex's arms, his bright eyes as dark as night. "Clark, it's..."  
  
"*Anne*, *please come assist me*, *we have to get his heart started*."  
  
She hadn't even gotten to see her baby.  
  
"Clark, lets go outsi--"  
  
They ripped her open. All her beautiful skin, torn side to side for the entire world to see. Why had they exposed her chest like that? Why? She wasn't an animal, she was a lady. Why were they showing her breasts to everyone? She was Chloe, Chloe, who'd I'd promised my liver to five minutes ago, Chloe who lay dead with all her insides all over the floor, Chloe who I loved with all my heart. Such a blood bath. Such a blood bath.  
  
A sudden long, piercing wail and Baby Sullivan breathed for the first time.  
  
  
2  
  
It was cold outside. Hundreds of thousands of stars glimmered in a night sky that had changed forever, a sky that no longer held hope, but dark, deep, and irreversible despair. Twinkled not with ideas and aspirations and pleasures, but with cold, forgotten hopes and reckless dreams.  
  
She was gone. And wasn't this an enigma? Living life without the sole purpose of your entire existence.   
  
Fathoming being without her was so hard, so painful, that I just sat and wished for the world to open and swallow me up. Hell seemed a nice change; anything to get away from the blistering cold.   
  
I'm not a selfish creature by nature, not by any regard. I live life like a normal man does, here and there and helping where I can. I'm not of this world, but I consider myself a human being, who deserves life, liberty, and happiness. I once believed deeply in heaven, and the being that lived there would take care of all of His children.  
  
Even me.  
  
This...this. This. It was a rape of the soul, and that's all their was to it.  
  
The baby had lived, and Chloe had not.  
  
The saddest thing was my hatred for what the child stood for had increased even more. I'd tried so hard to keep it inside, to help her love and care for this child, but I couldn't anymore. What a veil it is that blankets the young. I felt like the dirt had been taken from my eyes, wiped away with her blood and everything was crystal clear now, real in a sense that I'd never felt before.  
  
I wished with all my heart that I could have been the father of that child.   
  
"Clark."  
  
He'd gone to see the baby. Bruised, very small, but alive and breathing and drinking from a bottle already. Lex. God, Lex.  
  
I didn't have the heart to swipe the tears from my cheeks.   
  
"Clark...hey." Down he came, all long limbs and pale skin, to sit next to me on the wet curb. A gentle hand on my knee, and that just made the hiccupping sob sound loud and hollow.  
  
And suddenly I *did* feel very young. Young...and lost. Mad at so many things. At God, for letting the end product of this nightmare live and my Chloe to join the ranks of the dead young mothers of this world. At Lex, for saying yes to taking care of it, of my Chloe's murderer. At my parents, for patting my hand and hugging me and not asking me how I felt, how agonized I was, how tight my chest was. How badly I suffered. At fate itself, for letting me be friends with the most amazing woman on earth, then ripping her away from me in a heartbeat's time during an occasion that had been supposed to be full of joy.  
  
Not blood.   
  
"Clark..."  
  
I hadn't meant to yank away so hard, but there I was, standing with the soft drizzle falling on my face and barely restrained tears in Lex's eyes. "I can't."  
  
His body slumped just a little....and not for the first time, I realized how young Lex really was. Barely 22, and at times he used his visage as an old soul to mask how much of a scared kid he actually was. "I understand."  
  
"You don't." Hysterical giggle. Keep it in. Don't break down. "You don't get it, Lex. She...she just..."   
There it came, all tears and sobs and hitching voice and shaking finger as I pointed at the lit hospital behind us. "She was someone great, someone wonderful, and she loved me and I didn't see it and she *died*, Lex, she died, and now she won't come back and hug me, and talk to me, and argue with me about the dumbest stuff, and she won't get to write anymore, or sing in the shower, or eat cheerio's, or tell me how proud she is of me. She's dead, Lex. She's gone, because God took her away from me and let a small, disgusting *thing* live. He let evil live, and took her away from me and I just don't understand *why*. Why He cares for us so much, gives us the world, and can take away people we love so much in the blink of an eye. That, what just happened in there was supposed to be special, wonderful and pure, and instead that child, that damn *thing*, took her away from me. And I just...I can't understand *why*."   
  
He gripped my shoulders so suddenly, strong and fierce and I could barely hear him over my sobs and my rushing blood. But there he was, Lex, as humble and intelligent and powerful as always, hugging me tightly to a body so warm it was like coming in from the snow. "I know. I know, Clark. It hurts, and it's going to hurt. But....look at me." He cupped my cheeks and forced my eyes to his. "You can't blame that baby. We're all he has now, Clark. He's innocent; he doesn't know who his father was, or who his mother was. He doesn't understand what he's from. He's just a gift from God, Clark, a tiny, loving gift who has nothing right now. He's an orphan, just like you. He hurts and he bleeds and his life can be taken away in an instant. Just a baby, Clark, just a pure little soul caught in this hell." He hugged me tightly again, just held me like I was his buoy on reason. "We have to take care of him, Clark. Chloe would have wanted it." His throat worked as he swallowed, and I could almost feel his pain, trapped like a golf ball there in that slim colum. "Did want it. Asked me--us--to take care of her baby."  
  
And it seems that, with just a few words, Lex had drained my anger away. Left me hollow and soft and emotionless.   
  
And full of pity for a tiny baby, who's story had been written from my own.  
  
  
  
  
3  
  
  
Never in my life have I ever known sadness. Angst, sorrow, those were everyday happenings, sure. Besides that every day, run of the mill stuff that goes on, I've never really had to experience what mind numbing, heart-wrenching sadness is. My mother has...she told me once that its something she feels everyday when she thinks of parts of her life, only as time goes on it isn't so bad.  
  
I wish time would go on, right now.   
  
My chest was too heavy. Way, way too heavy, and I found myself at odd times needing to take in a gasp of air, to circulate the oxygen in my constricted lungs.  
  
It had been nice. As nice as it could be, anyway. Ironic, how the rain tumbled from a dark sky and cracked lightening as I'd looked into her casket. Beautiful Chloe, my beautiful Chloe. She was dead. I'm not one of those people who sits there and melodramatically sobs over how unfair it all is, or how they can't be dead. She *was* dead, and what was left of her was just her body. I knew that, but for some reason, when I'd looked in to see her one last time...I'd almost wished she would have sat up and told me to stop crying in her no nonsense way, held me in her slim, soft arms. Kissed me with her full, soft mouth. Saw her baby for the first time.  
  
Her lipstick had been too red...her face too white. This was nothing but a husk, a shell of what she had been. What she had been capable of. What she had borne.  
  
I wish I didn't remember so much, and God, it would have been so much easier that way. To just recall a blur of motion and people and emotions, not the endless onslaught of crystal clear memories of sobs and broken faces. The look on her father's face would be with me until the day that I died.  
  
Such unyielding *misery*.  
  
Lex had been there. Lex Luthor, with his dark elegance and sad eyes; Lex Luthor who harbored the child that had taken my Chloe away in his home. Lex Luthor, who I was so desperately in love with; who I wished I cared nothing about, so the never ending guilt of Chloe's proclamation of love didn't eat through my belly.  
  
I wish I could drink.  
  
Outside my huge barn window the sky hummed and thundered, tiny droplets falling steadily to the ground to their deaths. Raindrops had a great advantage; they were reborn the next rainstorm, soaked up from the ground only to fall again.  
  
People couldn't just get soaked up from the ground and live again.  
  
The wood felt good against the side of my head, as if it was my only hold on reality. Covered with mud and death, but I couldn't gather the energy to move myself right now. Ever again. The pastor had given me a flower from the pew, a white rose. "*She loved*, *and she lost*. *And she was a greater person than all of us*. *Never forget her memory*, *and what she held dear*."   
  
I'd tried to give her a proper Eulogy. I had. Just a few words, and I'd lost my control. Blew one of the most important things I'd ever done, because of my tears.  
  
I wasn't a man. Lex surely would have never done that; he would have been calm and cool and perfect, with just the right dash of emotion under those stormy eyes.  
  
I was just a fool.  
  
Everything going on around me was so startlingly clear, yet I missed my mother walking up the steps...didn't even see her as she wrapped her arms around me. Kissed my cheek.   
  
Barely heard her soft words, almost missed the tears that fell from me like I didn't have enough room inside for all the sadness. Just poured.  
  
Something broke under my hands...the glass of juice my mom had set in them, shattering in a million pieces.  
  
Bloodless.  
  
How could God have done this? Why? Why had he done this to me? It wasn't fair. Do you hear me? It's not fair. How can you give me an angel, and then tear her away from me? Why did you take her when she was finally reaching her reward for a lifetime of pain and sacrifice? Why did you take her before she could see her child? She was so young, God. So young, just a baby herself. Just 16. She wanted to be a reporter...she wanted to raise her son to be something great.  
  
She hadn't even known if it was a boy or girl.  
  
My mom is a wonderful lady. Courageous, perfect beyond words. And right now, as she grasped me close, rocked me like I myself was a newborn, I thanked a God I couldn't even see for letting her stumble on me so many years ago.   
  
Nothing. Couldn't hear anything. Not my blood, or my sobs, or my warm voice as she hugged me from behind as I collapsed and gave in to my heart.  
  
Just the rain.   
  
  
***  
  
"Clark...sweetie, I'm here."  
  
"Mom."  
  
"Its okay, I'm here."  
  
"Why."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"This....all of this. Why did it have to happen?"  
  
The evening sun had long ago set, the storm clouds whisked away with the warm winds of springtime. The sky was a blanket of dark stars, the same I'd seen the night of her death. No change. Just a different angle, into the inky blackness of life.  
  
She was stroking my hair...somehow, my mother always had the right words, when my father didn't. I lay on my back, with my legs swinging off the leg of my couch, and my head in her lap. Comfort I didn't deserve. "I don't know sweetheart." Soft voice, like honey. "I wish I knew. Sometimes...God takes away His children, Clark, and it's not our right to ask why. You can't let yourself be destroyed by it."  
  
"How...how can you say that? She was dying, mom, I saw her eyes fading and she was dying, dying right there on that operating table, when she told me she loved me. And I felt so bad, so bad mom, because I love someone else, and it was just one more heartache for her, one more agony." Such guilt. Such never ending guilt. The person I loved wasn't even a female. Maybe that's what it is. Maybe that's why Chloe is dead. Because I loved and lived in blasphemy. Oh, God.  
  
"Oh, honey, she did love you. In every way one person can love another. You were her strength and courage...her gift, just as you're ours. You can't help who you care for."  
  
We stayed quiet for a long moment, listening to the crickets.  
  
"I hate that baby, mom." Quiet, soft, and I couldn't even meet her eyes. "I know I shouldn't, he's innocent. But mom...I can't love that child. I can't."  
  
"You don't mean that, Clark."  
  
"Yes, God. Yes, I do."  
  
"You don't, and you know why? Because he's what left of Chloe. He's the product of her caring and affection and love."  
  
Another pause. "Can I tell you something, mom?"  
  
"Anything."  
  
"I wished for a long time that I had been the father."  
  
It took her a long moment to respond, her fingers stilling in my hair for a few seconds as she thought. "Clark, I feel in my heart that you aren't the age that we gave you. I've always felt it, and though we tried very hard to correctly guess....you are mature beyond your years. What you don't understand Clark, is that you were, in many more ways then one, that baby's father. You stayed by Chloe's side, during all the doctors' appointments and ultra sounds and tests. *You* were there. She wouldn't have made it through it without you."  
  
I thought my body couldn't produce anymore tears, but here they came, trickling down the sides of her face. "Her dad....mom, her dad doesn't even want that baby. He gave it up for adoption...he hasn't even seen him." A hard swallow against the golf ball syndrome Lex seemed to have given me, whispering softly. "Lex is…Lex is going to adopt the baby. Take care of it. For Chloe." I felt the sob build in my throat. "She asked."  
  
  
She tightened; I could feel her despair, before she spoke. "Sweetie....I'm going to tell you something that happened to me, many years ago. I never wanted to talk to you about it when you were younger, because I felt it would hurt you more then help you. But this is the right time."  
  
A long pause, as she gently wiped the tears from my cheeks. " When I was 18 years old, I became pregnant with my boyfriend's baby."  
  
What? "Boyfriend?"  
  
"Yes. Michael McKenzie. He was my first love...I thought I was his. As soon as he...found out about my condition, he didn't speak to me again."  
  
"Mom..."  
  
"My parents were, of course, furious with me. How could I give up my life, because of some awkward fool? I had no one, Clark. My friends, as well as my family, abandoned me in my greatest time of need."  
  
"Why? There wasn't anywhere you could go?"  
  
"It was the seventies, Clark, you have to remember. For all the hippy standards and peace and harmony...it wasn't a good time for teen mothers and their infants."  
  
"What...what happened to...?.."  
  
"The baby? I lost the baby." Her voice was tight with pain, and I knew it hurt her to talk about it. "The next year, I found out I was unable to carry children. It put a hold on my life for a while...how could I ever build a family, when I could not create one with my own body? How could any man ever love me, with a wife unable to bear children?"  
  
"Mom, but...but you're so..."  
  
"A few years later I met your father, of course, and we got married. Life found a way, Clark. But to this day...I've never forgotten about Michael, and our baby."  
  
"Where is he? Now, I mean?"  
  
"Michael? Oh, I see him now and again. He works for Lionel Luthor, and comes up to Lex's plant at times."  
  
Christ. I never thought my mother could put the whammy on me. Ever. But here we were, one whammied alien and one saddened woman. "Mom...how did you get through it?"  
  
"Well, Clark, I remembered that love is the greatest of treasures, and the prize at the end of the deepest of obstacles. I didn't let me sadness consume who I had become, and who I still wanted to be. Instead...I grew from it, and in return, I got you. My gift from the heavens themselves. You are my son, and you are my love, you and your father."  
  
"You're so strong."  
  
"No. I'm not. I just believe. Have faith, Clark. Don't hate this baby, don't push him away, because now you're all he has left in this world. He's alone, and I'm pretty sure Lex has no idea how to care for him."  
  
"Mom.."  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I love you too, my Clark."  
  
  
4  
  
  
In my own way, I suppose I thought that when I stepped through the front door, the town would be eerily quiet. That there wouldn't be a sound, not a movement, not a word. Just heavy grief, the same pain I felt.  
  
Instead, I was met with a bustling, cheerful town, people abuzz with conversation and excitement over the warming weather. The trees swayed softly in the breeze, inviting a picnic under its heavy canopy, or a walk along its warm grass. Children begged parents for toys in windows, old couples strolled along with their walkers. The perfect, cheery town.  
  
It was misery, in its perfect form.  
  
The Talon was an identical counterpart to the life going on outside; people milling about chatting, the rich, heavy scent of coffee permeating senses with its delicious, addictive aroma. Couples kissing, children eating ice cream cones.   
  
Such a fucking treat, to see all these joyful people. But nothing could exceed that joy then seeing Lana Lang. Oh, Lana. Beautiful girl, with her long brown tresses and dark, compelling eyes. Lana, with her cold heart and emotionless brain. Lana, who'd not even come by to see if I needed anything. Who hadn't spoken to me since the night before Chloe's funeral.  
  
I milled through all the good times happy that all the people of this damn down had seemed to grasp onto and balloon, finally settling down into a stool at the bar. I set my bag on the floor next to me, intertwined my fingers, and met Lana's gaze as she turned.  
  
"Clark!" Her immediate reaction hadn't been happiness at seeing me. I saw it, in her face.   
  
"Hey." I accepted her hug from across the glass bar, and felt my orange juice rise from my belly. "Long time no see."  
  
"Yeah, I...its been a while." She touched my arm, playing the roll of distressed female to the umpteenth. "How are you? How're you holding up?"  
  
Disgusting little bitch. How am I holding up? How do you *think* I'm holding up? "I...well." Truth? Lie? "I'm doing better. How about you?"   
  
"All right. It's still all just...a shock. I mean, I keep expecting Chloe to come in and sit here like she always did and eat a bagel. But now...." Crikey, here came the waterworks. "Now...she's..."  
  
"Uh huh." Quick, to the point, move on. "I came by to give you something, actually." I went into my bag, searched for a moment....then took out a dragon pendant, and matching earrings in a tiny box. "You know Chloe. She made me get certain things ready...in case something happened with the labor. And...she wanted you to have this."  
  
"Oh!" Out came spindly fingers, grasping the pendant with a smile on her face. Where had the tears gone? "It's so beautiful, thank you so much Clark."  
  
How could I have grown such a hatred for my first crush? "Yeah. Anyway, I'm gonna...go on ahead and go. I'll see you around, Lana."  
  
As I was rising from my seat, she grasped my arm. "Clark...listen. Do you maybe want to go get something to eat later? I get off at 7....we could eat a little, maybe talk?"  
  
Three hours with the beautiful Ms Lang? "Thanks, but no. I've got some stuff I have to take care of. Thank you, though."  
  
"Sure. Anytime."  
  
  
***  
  
The sun was beating down on my back with fiery vengeance. The early morning spring like weather had given way to full on, in your face *heat*, and even I could feel it. Maybe that's why he was here...maybe that's why he was where he was. Just sitting their, head in his hands.  
  
"Hey, Pete."  
  
A quick glance upward and a tear-streaked face met mine. Quick, wiping away any evidence of weakness, and he cleared his voice. "Hey, Clark."  
  
We embraced, because there was nothing for us to do but hug.   
  
"How are you doing?"  
  
"Truth, or lie?"  
  
Pete was the best friend anyone could ever have. "Let's try truth."  
  
"I feel like my insides have been hollowed out."  
  
"Yeah...yeah. That about covers it." I sat down on the baking concrete next to him, leaning back into the shade of his porch. "You know Chloe put together some stuff for us, before she went into labor."  
  
"No, I..." Bright eyes looked up into mine, read with such dark, deep misery. "No...actually, don't answer that unasked question. She was Chloe. Of course she left something for us."  
  
I unzipped my bag, went through it a moment...and came out with a pink book. The tiny lock on the side was as ancient as ancient could be, and I handed it to him carefully, with a key on a silver chain.  
  
"Her diary? She wanted me to have..." A sound that was more sob then laugh, and he shook his head. "I used to tease her about being more friends with this thing then with me." He took it from me...set it in his lap, and traced his fingers over the cover.  
  
"She loved you like no one else, Pete. We didn't know her for as long as we would have liked, but she....she really cared about you in a special, perfect way. I hope you always remember that."  
  
"Clark...I...." Oh, God. Please don't start crying, Pete. If you start, I won't be able to stop. "She w-was...so wonderful. God." He looked up at the ceiling of the porch, eyes wide as he tried to reign in the emotions. "I miss her, so much."  
  
His voice cracking did it, and I felt my throat tighten hard. Felt my eyes fill. "I...I know. I know it. I know."  
  
He rubbed the heel of his hand hard against his face, inhaling softly before letting it go. "I wanted to tell you I was sorry."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Lex...what Lex is doing. Clark, that's amazing. He's gonna raise Chloe's baby. That's something, right there, and I feel bad for calling him a sucking scum bag all the time."  
  
Oh, man. Leave it to Pete. I smiled a bit, shaking my head. "'Sucking scum bag'?"  
  
"Keeping it rated G here, man." He smiled a little as well, meeting my eyes. "You've really got it for him, don't you?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Clark...don't play dumb. Just tell him. I know you're having guilt issues...I've known you my whole life, remember?" He said it with a raised brow, answering my unasked question. "What you and he have is more then friendship. So tell him. Don't end up like Chloe, Clark, too scared to say anything until it was too late. Trust me that...I know." Pained agony, a tear choked voice. "I should have told her when I had a chance, and now it's...it's too late, Clark."  
  
I held him hard until the sun went down.  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
He was shooting hoops. Of course he was shooting hoops. What else did a born jock do, when faced with emotional turmoil, but shoot hoops? You could take the boy out of the jock, but you could never take the jock out of the boy, even when he wore a military uniform.  
  
The late evening sun wore down some of the intense heat of mid day, and now the birds were back to chirping, the cricket's just beginning their nightly song. The sun lay low in the western sky, the east already spread with darker blues and purples.   
  
And there he was, shooting hoops.  
  
Fierce determination on his face, as he bit his lip and threw the ball again. Went running for it. Threw it again. Again. Sweat beaded his face, and I watched him for a while. Rhythmic, throwing, running for the ball. Made it in the hoop, every single time.   
  
He'd seen me...pretended he didn't. So I sat there, cross-legged on the asphalt, watching him throw that ball and wondering if maybe this was therapy for him. To just *do*, and not think about what had happened.  
  
He and Chloe had never been especially close, but I know in my heart that it hurt him more then he let on that she was gone. Chloe had been a pillar of strength and energy for everyone she knew, fierce determination inside such a small girl. She--  
  
"What're you doing here, Kent?"  
  
I rose my eyes and watched as he continued throwing hoops, sneakers squeaking on the blacktop. "I came to give you something."  
  
"What, could you possibly--" He threw the ball and it landed with a high arch into the net. "--have, that I want?"  
  
He didn't even look at me, so instead, I went into my backpack and took out the gift Chloe had left for him. I set it carefully on the asphalt so it wouldn't break, and stood, stretched my limbs, and watched him as he ran for the ball.   
  
As I turned to leave, the tiny figurine of a man and woman dancing danced on the ground, its tiny tinkling music box bringing a gasp from my friend.  
  
"She said it reminded her of prom, last year, and she hoped that although you weren't there...you would remember the last dance you and Lana had."  
  
I was walking away when he called me. "Kent?"  
  
Didn't turn around. Couldn't. If I saw one more destroyed face today I would scream. "Mmm?"  
  
"Thank you."  
  
  
5  
  
  
For the first time in my life, I found out what "quiet as a tomb" actually means. The air was silent a still as any museum, everything pristine and soundless and perfect. The marble floor, with its expensive rugs and designs held antiques twice as old as my father, showing off precious treasures. Grace, elegance, and a quiet kind of dignity that must have been created by a designer, because not once could Lex be mistaken for dignified, or quiet. Quite the opposite, in fact, though he could be ruthlessly quiet when he w--  
  
Then the scream bounced off the walls, and I got the silence.  
  
Shrill, high, desperate, and too tiny to not be anything but an infant.   
  
This was going to be so hard. I didn't want to be here, I didn't want to see the baby, didn't want to see Lex. Couldn't deal with the immense guilt that already raked its claws along my chest.  
  
If only there had been something I could have done. I should have X-Rayed her, to see what was going on inside, should have done something, anything. I was a fucking super human alien here, and I didn't. Do. Anything.  
  
I shifted my bag higher on my shoulder and followed the sobs through the foyer and up the grand staircase, watching the rain fall out of the long wall to wall window that sat at the base of the steps. With each step, the sounds grew louder. Sadder. What was he doing to the child? Had he neglected it, left it in a corner to die? Had--  
  
Another two steps....three, and a smile I almost couldn't help slipped across my lips like a ghost, turned my gaunt features almost psychotic in the old overhanging mirror on the wall.   
  
There were toys everywhere. Stuffed animals littered the hall, a bouncer, and a walker. A swing sat halfway out of an open doorway, and sobs flung out of that door unlike the world had ever heard.  
  
I couldn't help it. My heart wouldn't let me see what was happening, but a peek wouldn't hurt. A peek could be easily erased from the memory. I could turn and leave if I needed to, without another word said.  
  
The baby lay in a sea of blankets on the floor, sobbing its tiny heart out.  
  
Lex was crying too.  
  
Deep, quiet sobs that tore at my chest, sitting cross-legged next to the tiny infant. Head in his hands, shoulders shaking, and it took everything out of me not to say anything. To protect my wounded heart.  
  
"What e-else can I do? I c...please, you've got to stop. I'm not your mom, I can't take care of you the way she could. I'm trying my best here, *please* stop."  
  
It was kinda rude to just stand here and watch, but what else could I do? Speak? I don't think so.  
  
"Lex...hey." Stupid, *stupid* mouth, not listening to brainly orders.  
  
His head shot up...the tears brushed away with the flick of a wrist, and his look of horror was barely veiled. The baby swept up into pale arms, cradled close. "Clark. I didn't expect you."  
  
"Yeah, I'm....I'm here. I didn't expect to see...you...when I came in, I have to admit."  
  
A light shrug, and he couldn't quite meet my eyes, which I'm sure was a stab to his pride. His cheeks were so wet. "Chloe asked me to."  
  
For a split moment I thought her blond hair would pop up from behind the plush couch sitting in the corner and cry 'April fools!'  
  
"I know. I know it. How...." I couldn't bring myself to ask him, but what else was there to loose? "How's the baby?"  
  
I've never seen a mans face crumble in my life. Not when my father thought we'd loose the farm...not from my grandfather with my gramma died. But this....a vocal sob from Lex's lips, and he buried his face into the squalling child's belly. "He won't stop crying. No matter...no matter what I do, he won't. Stop."  
  
It took everything inside of me not to grasp him close and make it all go away.  
  
Instead, I reigned myself in and set my bag down beside the soft couch. That could wait. I strode over to where he was sitting on the warm blankets, in a t-shirt and work out pants. Strange. I don't think Id ever seen Lex in anything but his Gucci and Armani. Then again, his work out clothes probably *were* Gucci and Armani.  
  
I rubbed damp palms on my jeans and crouched down. There he was. Curled up in masculine arms and a lily soft blanket, tears still on chubby cheeks. Hair...he had so much hair. Blond as the morning sun, with deep green eyes blinking sleepily up at me. Full little mouth, and a dimpled chin, and he was the most perfect, wonderful little baby I'd ever seen in my life.  
  
He looked just like Chloe.  
  
I don't know how it happened, but suddenly I was on my ass and Lex was setting him in my arms and he was crying, and I was crying, and the baby was crying, and the fucking *world* was crying, but here he was. My God. My God, almighty. He weighed nothing, just a dent in a blanket so small it couldn't wrap around my head. Just there, sucking on a pacifier Lex slipped between those tiny lips and blinking at me like I was the world's salvation. Just looking at me like I had the answers.  
  
"Clark....you made him stop crying. How did you do that? Can I bottle it?" A quick, nervous look at my friend had him setting his hand on my shoulder. "He hasn't stayed this quiet in days."  
  
"My mom says I've got a gift. I can make animals stop moving around, too. Like...like they trust me, or something."  
  
"I trust you."  
  
I let my gaze curve over to him...met deep blue eyes, and my belly flipped agonizingly in my gut. "I'm sorry I haven't been around."  
  
"No...I...I understand." He sank down cross-legged next to me, rubbed the heel of his palm against his eyes. "It's just been hard."  
  
"I should have been there for you, Lex." His skin was so warm under my fingers as I touched his hand. "I should have been here."  
  
"No, it's all right. Things have been all right." Nervous, agitation, and he scratched his chin. "The adoption papers are struggling through the system...my father has been calling me off the hook, telling me I'm a "Complete idiotic moron for even considering this." . The usual." A brief smile, and he skimmed long fingers over the baby's soft downy head. "I just feel like...Clark, can I tell you something?"  
  
"Yes...of course. Anything."  
  
He looked so *sad*, with his warm cheeks and bright eyes, and something struck hard inside of me...because suddenly his hand was cradling my cheek, and he was so, so close, forehead against mine. Eyes closed, both of us now, and I listened to him talk as the baby breathed softly in my arms. "I wish there were something more that I could have done."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Do you?"   
  
God.   
  
*Need to kiss him*.  
  
I climbed quickly to my feet and away from temptations hand, feeling his eyes on my as I set the infant in a tiny cradle adorned in white lace. This child. This child was my life, and I knew it, even as I brought the blanket up around his tiny shoulders.   
  
"I do. Lex....Look at this child. Look at him. He's...its the purest thing I've ever seen in my life. I understand now, what you said, I get it. We're everything to him, Lex. He doesn't know anything. Doesn't understand what's going on or who we are...his little mind hasn't begun to even think yet. To become beautiful. Lex, he might be a doctor, or a scientist, or an artist. He came from Justin and Chloe, but I feel in my heart that he was...he's....ours. Do you...do you get what I mean?"  
  
"Yes. God, yes." He got up himself, and went to his desk where a bottle of brandy and a glass sat. "But we're not his mother, Clark. We're not where he came from, and he's going to ache for that until the day he dies. Because I do. I ache for my mother...any mother, who could have taken care of me." He took a long, thick swallow of the alcohol, and poured himself another. "Do you understand how powerless I feel? There I was, with billions of dollars to my name, watching as her blood poured out of her, and there was nothing I could do. Nothing, Clark. I wasn't able to save one beautiful woman."  
  
If only you knew, Lex.  
  
"But what is that, really? A beautiful woman?" He came back over to me, snifter full of brandy in one hand, and a bottle of water in the other. "Their are hundreds; no, thousands of beautiful women on this earth. What made this one so special? I had to keep asking myself, or I *did*....until the nurse set that perfect, indescribable bundle in my arms. Until I looked at that baby one more time, and Clark, I c...I can't..." his voice was trembling...the brandy fell and crashed on the marble. He'd been so strong, stronger then most, and for the first time in my life I watched him fall apart. Collapsed right into my arms, into my embrace, and let the shakes take him over. Gripped my shoulders, my shirt, as tight as he could. " I can't take care of this baby alone, Clark. I can't. I'm not strong enough."  
  
"You're wrong. Lex. You're so wrong." I rocked gently, as he pressed his mouth into my collar. "You have so much courage...don't you see it? You didn't give up. You could have given that baby up for adoption. You could have." I murmured it into his over-warm skin, held him closer because if he shook one more time I was going to scream. " But instead...here you are. Taking care of him, of that tiny soul, because you have the means to. Because you can give him a better life then any of us could." Lips, pressing to the skin that was so bare of hair, and I didn't know what I was doing but it felt so. Right. A tentative lick...and sunshine and strawberries attacked my senses, even as he went completely still.   
  
"What's his name?"  
  
"Hmm?" Dazed.   
  
"His name.....does he have one?"  
  
"Oh...oh, yes. Andrew Julian."  
  
I pulled away a fraction and met his eyes. "Julian?"  
  
"This baby is the child I never got to love, Clark. Is it too weird?" Anxiety, bright eyes.   
  
"No. God, no. It's perfect."  
  
"Clark?" He whispered it, even as he skimmed his own mouth across my skin, even as our embrace became more then friends holding on to one another. As hands began to explore...as questions began to be answered.  
  
"Mmm."  
  
"Why....you're...can I tell you something?"  
  
"You could before...you can now...you always will tomorrow."  
  
"Please don't take this the wrong way, but...I've been thinking about this for a while. And I don't want you to be weird, but...I have...feelings for you. Strong...strong feelings," he was looking at me with such intensity, such unspeakable love, even if he didn't know it. "Since the day I saw you. You changed something inside me...and...and I don't want you to be weird about it now, b..."  
  
A pressed thumb to his lips hushed him for a moment. Blue eyes...such crystal blue eyes. "Lex. No one will ever love you the way I do."  
  
To this day I'm sure the baby giggled as our lips met. 


End file.
